FantAssTic
by FerryBerry
Summary: S2. Rachel shows her appreciation for Quinn's caboose. Spoilerish. Crack!Fic.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**Disclaimer 2:** I personally don't find 'asses' in particular attractive, so if I failed at describing them as such…my sincerest apologies.

**Disclaimer 3:** Actually my sincerest apologies for this whole thing.

**A/N:** Because I just couldn't not…. Written between classes in like ten minutes, sorry for mistakes.

**Spoilers:** Actually based on some spoilers/previews/preview pictures I saw on Tumblr, so if you don't like spoilers…don't read this. Even though I sincerely doubt this will ever happen (and I don't know if Rachel, Tina, and Santana's shirts will really say what I say in this). It's fun to imagine anyway.

**Fant-ass-tic**

Rachel quickly slipped the fresh white fabric over her head in a rush to cover her fleshy stomach, a smile of contentment with her recovered modesty settling on her plump lips. She turned to the dressing room mirror she was occupying, looking with satisfaction at the all-capital pronouncement of her in-born nature: 'PRIMA DONNA.' As the message of their upcoming number implied, Rachel was less than embarrassed by the words on her t-shirt. After all, baby, she was born this way.

She muffled a snicker at her own thoughts, turning about to observe the rest of her (female) teammates and the proud proclamations on their chests. Santana was only a mirror over, carefully applying mascara to the curve of her eyelashes. Spread across her chest were the words 'LESBIAN LEMON.' Rachel wasn't entirely certain as to what the 'lemon' part of her label referred to, but she wasn't about to ask, either. Santana may not have been in active pursuit of Rachel's everlasting misery lately, but that could change as quickly as Mr. Schuester's setlists.

Nearby, Tina had pulled her shirt over her head and busied herself with her long black locks, pulling them from beneath the fabric and over her shoulder, partly covering the words 'EMO CHICK.' Brittany was sitting on the large green couch along the wall, first ready after Lauren (she had already rushed off to do something with Noah that Rachel frankly didn't want to think about), though she was staring rather curiously down at the words on her shirt: 'I'M WITH STOOPID.' Rachel smiled easily at the bluntness of it all, something she had always valued while others labeled her 'brutal' and 'overbearing' for it. She was glad to see her teammates embracing the importance of honesty.

Mercedes was peering into a handheld mirror to properly apply her lipstick—her shirt simply said 'NO WEAVE,' though Rachel thought she could have been a bit more creative—and behind her, Quinn stood as she pulled on her shirt, stark white overtaking deliciously pale flesh faster than Rachel could properly process it. The blonde flipped her hair out from beneath the shirt and turned, hazel eyes already roving for something on the nearby vanity, whilst Rachel's brow knit with confusion at the message on Quinn's chest: 'LUCY CABOOSEY.'

Before she could censor herself as she usually did with Santana, Rachel had blurted the blonde's name, tilting her head in question. Quinn looked up sharply, but not with near the amount of hatred the brunette would have garnered from Santana. She considered it a small victory that Quinn didn't take her head off for disturbing her, but only cracked open her case of eye shadow and queried neutrally, "What?"

Rachel's head tilted further, peering closely at the black lettering as she prompted awkwardly, "What does 'Lucy Caboosey' mean?"

The rest of the girls, half-listening to the exchange, snickered at this, Santana the loudest. Mercedes patted Quinn on the back as she set her lipstick back on their shared stand, and Rachel saw the faintest shade of pink color Quinn's porcelain cheeks.

"It means Tubbers has a big ass," Santana supplied brusquely, a smirk twisting her lips, but before Rachel could respond, Brittany stood up to elaborate. By singing. With hip thrusts.

"'_I like big butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can't deny_,'" she crooned, making Tina, Mercedes, and Santana roar with laughter whilst Quinn's cheeks went from lightly pink to flaming red, almost kicking it up to purple when Brittany smacked her lightly on the rump. "'_When a girl walks in with an itty-bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get_….'" They all waited expectantly, but after twisting her lips this way and that for a moment, the blonde plopped back onto the couch and said, "I forgot the rest."

Rachel was unsurprised by this, but she was stunned at the description of Quinn's posterior as…prominent. Not that it wasn't noticeable, it just wasn't…she wouldn't use 'Baby Got Back' to describe it, that was all. Though she supposed it would be inappropriate for her to sing that song in reference to anyone's behind, considering her lack of an 'anaconda.'

Still, she found herself blurting, almost offended on Quinn's derriere's behalf, "Quinn, you have a _great_ ass!"

The dressing room went silent. Rachel swore she almost heard Artie's wheels turning in the room over. She could not believe those words just left her mouth. She had meant to be rather more…eloquent and much, _much_ less enthusiastic, but it appeared her brain-to-mouth filter (yes, she had one) had abandoned her entirely for the day, and now she had to deal with the subsequent damage of her hastily spoken words. She discreetly roved her eyes over the room to see just how much damage there was.

Santana was eyeing her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, to the point where it looked as though a chuckle was imminent, while Tina and Mercedes wore the most disturbed expressions of the group, exchanging a glance that Rachel was scared to interpret. Brittany, of course, didn't see anything amiss, and Quinn was simply…staring, her hand frozen halfway to her face with a swipe of eye shadow to apply, cheeks flushed and eyes alight with curiosity and….

"Uh…thanks, Rachel, but…the shirt speaks for itself," she stammered out eventually, easing the tension in the room as she gestured to her self-selected message and elicited chuckles from the others.

Rachel's frown was automatic, as were her next words as she crept closer to Quinn, privatizing the conversation somewhat. Not that the others would care about their privacy.

"No, really, Quinn," she said sincerely, capturing the blonde's intense attention once more. "Your…behind is as proportional as the rest of your perfect body. If it is any larger than average, it isn't due to excess fat; your excellent exercise regime has made sure of that. It's actually rather tight and firm, likely because of your consistent healthcare, which, I am under the impression, is desirable in a woman's…bottom. Besides, larger…rumps are often thought as attractive assets, as evidenced by the song Brittany just graced us with, and I certainly think yours is one of the, if not the, top-ranking posteriors I have seen in my admittedly brief lifetime. I reiterate: you have a great ass."

Again, silence, only this time Quinn couldn't seem to bring herself to meet Rachel's gaze, blushing profusely as she fiddled with her eye shadow container. Rachel didn't know exactly why this had her smiling, but it did.

"You spend an awful lot of time thinking about Juno's ass, eh, Dwarf?" Santana called from across the silent room, and both the blonde and brunette jumped simultaneously.

"No," she protested hastily. "I'm simply more observant than the average teenager." She nodded, pleased with her answer.

"Oh, really? Then can you give me a paragraph on _my_ greatest feature?" she taunted, that wicked smirk twisting her lips and only growing more Grinch-like the longer Rachel's jaw flapped.

"I…I never said Quinn's bottom was her greatest feature," she managed to spew eventually, folding her arms haughtily.

Santana snorted. "Uh huh. All right, losers, let's leave the closeted lemons to finish getting their shit together," she barked, ushering the others through the door as Brittany asked, "Sanny, wouldn't a lemon rot if you kept it in a closet?"

The silence they left in their wake was stifling, though both girls tried valiantly to pretend they didn't notice a thing. Quinn hastily returned to applying eye shadow while Rachel stepped back over to her vanity and fiddled with the lid on her lipstick, wondering (not for the first time) if she should even bother with it. Lipstick was meant to augment your lips (obviously), but hers were big enough to be noticed in the back row. She could see the headlines about the plastic surgery she'd had done when she was a little nobody now.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your stomach."

Rachel jumped again, nearly dropping the lipstick container to the floor as she turned to peer at a pink, eyeliner-applying Quinn.

"What?"

The girl paused, chewing on her lip before letting loose the words, "Your abs. They're…awesome."

Rachel blinked. "Oh." A pregnant pause weighted down on them. "Really?"

Quinn nodded once and set down her eyeliner, exchanging it for mascara. "Yeah."

They worked at doing up their faces in silence then, and Rachel forewent deciding on the lipstick in favor of focusing on her best feature: her eyes. It wasn't until Quinn had finished behind her and the brunette was again fiddling with the lipstick that words were passed between them again, and it was again Quinn who broke it.

"Cherry red…looks really good on your lips," she offered quietly, and again Rachel blinked.

"Oh. Thank you."

Quinn nodded, and the brunette watched her awkwardly pat her pants before turning toward the door to leave her to it. It was then, eyeing the blonde's arse in the mirror, that she was struck with sudden inspiration, and she whirled on her heel, calling her name again. She looked back curiously, even less hatred in her gaze than before, and Rachel smiled nervously.

"Would you…I mean, would it be…would you ever consider…singingasongwithme?" she blurted, and then chewed on her unpainted bottom lip.

Quinn's eyes brightened with interest and she wandered closer. "Sure. I…that could be fun." She coughed, as though that would erase her admittance at being able to enjoy _any_ activity with Rachel.

It didn't matter. Rachel's megawatt grin was on her face and she said happily, "I have the _perfect_ mashup to run by you."


End file.
